


Jump Right In and Touch the Sky

by rileymatthews



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (aka the best kind lol), Accidental Incest, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Summer Camp, welcome back to the internet Ari!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileymatthews/pseuds/rileymatthews
Summary: Camp relationships are great. A couple months of passion, and then you never see each other again. Except when you're actually half-siblings.





	Jump Right In and Touch the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheEagleGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/gifts).



> This is the longest fic I've ever written! And it's a welcome-back-to-the-internet present for Ari (@the-eagle-girl)! I love you, hope you like it!

Sansa hadn’t intended to fall in love when she decided to become a camp counselor the summer after her senior year in high school. 

Well, she wouldn’t really call it love, but the over-imaginative romantic part of her brain wanted to be. And “In Lust” didn’t sound as serious. And, on top of that, back home she had a capital-B Boyfriend, so it’s not like this was sustainable or anything.

But when they were able to sneak time together, Jon made her believe it could last forever, or made her want it too. The first day, she’d pegged him as an emo, long hair, intense eyes. Sansa had gotten over her emo phase after MCR had broken up. She didn’t need that.

She avoided him at first. But she’d misjudged him. Sansa noticed he was kind first. He was also hot. Sansa hadn’t seen that at first past the man bun. And he was funny, in a gruff way, the only way he was really gruff.

When he first talked to her to just talk, and not to get something organized, or ask her a work-related question, it surprised her, a little. How gentle he seemed, while staying tough. They were swimming, the two of them volunteering to be in charge of the activity when the campers had their first free time. She was in a camp designed modest one piece, which like all the camp assigned clothing was bright red, and he was in boxers a matching shade. The campers were a bit ahead, running as fast as they could into the lake, towels and shirts flying everywhere, the smell of spray-on sunscreen heavy. 

“You look good.” He says, smiling, his eyes twinkling. The line between come-on and honest observation was thin, and Sansa wasn’t sure where this was.

“Thanks,” she responds. “You too.” And it’s true. His abs are unfair, yet not harsh like so many are. They talked often enough after that.

The camp had paired up Cabins, one boys one girls, for the summer. Jon’s was paired with Sansa’s. It was a blessing and a curse, once they started getting close as her younger siblings would have euphemised. They had time together constantly. And it may have even been what caused it. But it also meant they almost never had time not being watched by the same campers, who just might report them for breaking the camp-relationship policy. 

They’d both gone off to grab supplies for a game that the whole camp was playing, and were in a rather small closet for two people to be in at once. She wasn’t intending to kiss him, but he was so close, and smelled sweet, and not of the omnipresent twin perils of sunscreen and sweat. He turns around from reaching for pool noodles on a too high shelf and she kisses him, hard, arms grabbing, lips soft. And he reciprocates. He reciprocates a lot.

They almost got caught once, the first time they found time to go farther than make out and fool around. Sansa was a hairsbreadth from orgasming, driven to the edge by Jon. They’d snuck in a half hour where neither of them had responsibility. They’d started with just the normal, tongue and hands, and heat, and closeness, but Jon slowed it down, and stripped Sansa’s skirts and panties down excruciatingly slowly, before Jon used his delicate, determined, fingers, nearly making Sansa beg, but she loved it, wouldn’t want it anyother way. But then campers for their camp wide game of hide and seek had started coming towards the cabin they were hiding in, singing Fall Out Boy too loud and off-key.

Jon’s face was in shock, but got really quiet, and, not losing a bit of focus on the fingers that Sansa needed right now, locked the door, something they should have done when they went into the cabin. But the campers never got that close to the cabin, and Jon got Sansa to finish before they had to get back to their commitments.

Sansa didn’t keep track of how many times they actually had sex. Jon might have known, based on his need to sneakily buy condoms at some of the quick runs to the nearest town the counselors had to make. But it was a good amount, and it was a great time. No one would have guessed she was a virgin before this summer, with the quality of the sex Jon repeatedly professed he was having with her. And Jon wasn’t a virgin before this summer, though he wasn't a manslut either.

They were in bed together, the day after the campers had left, and they’d closed everything down, and gotten a hotel room in the nearest town before returning to their homes and never seeing each other again. Sansa nearly wanted to say she was in love. It could be true, but it wouldn’t be fair.

Sansa is half awake, when she hears Jon talking on the phone. 

“Thanks for calling, and uh, I love you?” His voice is hesitant and questioning. Sansa opens her eyes, not having heard Jon say that before, though there wasn’t really a context for it to happen.

“Who was that?” She asks, sitting up in bed.

“Oh, that was my father.” He seems both uncomfortable and enthused about this, and about telling Sansa. “He had me when he was in college and only found out about me pretty recently. That was the first time I said I love you.” He waits for second before finishing “I have a picture here if you want to see?”

“I’d love that.” Sansa says, smiling at Jon’s happiness. He stands, and opens his suitcase, grabbing a single framed photo. And when Jon showed her, she realized who it is.

It’s a picture of her father. Sure, he’s nearly 20 years younger, but it’s a picture of Ned Stark. With the same intense eyes and unkempt hair as Jon. It seemed obvious in hindsight. Sansa’s not sure how to react. To throw up, to just start crying. But she gets up.

“I have to go.” Her voice is flat, is shaky, is unsure. Jon’s surprised, but doesn’t stop her. She just leaves the hotel room, and the hotel itself, suddenly very thankful for the ambiguity of her pyjamas. She calls Margaery Tyrell, also staying in the hotel. She agrees to drive her home, and doesn’t ask questions despite how much Sansa can see she wants too. When she gets back to her house no one is home. She uses the spare key, and agrees to never remember this, and maybe no one will know.

 

Several months later, Jon shows up at her house. Ned had invited him, wanted him to meet his family. And Sansa was going to pretend none of it had ever happened. And she hoped that when Jon arrived he had the decency to do the same.

When he actually arrives, not only does he get to realize that she’s his half-sibling, but he also would get to meet the half hidden monster of Joffrey, who had arrived uninvited, and Sansa is sure made a pass at her mother. Ned calls them all into the living room, and Sansa can tell from her expression that her mom is the only other one who knows what’s happening.

“I have an announcement.” Her father has a similar tone to when Jon told her. It comforted and unnerved her. “When I was young, I had a son, before I met your mother. I only found out about him this year.”

And Jon walks in from the other room, just as handsome as ever. But Sansa throws that thought out. He was her half brother. So she just smiles, and sees the quick succession of emotions on Jon’s face, of realization, and fear, of regret, when he sees her, before going to a smile of disguise.

The rest of the family loves him. Rickon immediately starts acting like he’s a jungle gym, despite being nine, and Jon not being that tall. Bran is hesitant, but when Jon sees his Panic! At the Disco t-shirt and starts talking about their most recent album, he’s hooked. Arya brings up her antique knife collection, and is surprised when Jon genuinely seems interested. Robb is hard to read for Sansa, even after their eighteen years together, but he seemed at least content with Jon.

Joffrey doesn’t like him at all. He sneers, when he thinks Ned and Cat aren’t looking and he’s not trying to stick his hand down Sansa’s pants. Sansa doesn't particularly care for Joffrey's opinion. 

When Jon leaves that day, it’s with a promise to return. And he does, often. He’s going to college in town, but spends half his time at their house. Catelyn even sets up the spare bedroom, whether by duty, or liking him, so he can sleep there. Some days when he’s there they almost recapture the friendship they once had.

“Joffrey is...” He says one of those days.

“He’s an ass.” Sansa says, admitting it for the first time. “He’s an ass I was planning on marrying.”

“He.” John hesitates. “He doesn’t deserve you.” And you do? She thinks, yet doesn’t say. Because if she did she’d have to admit that he did. He was still what she wanted. Everything with Jon was easier, was better. He gets her, and loves her unconditionally. With or without who her father is. 

She didn’t mean to kiss him this time either. He was her half-brother, staying in their family home. And yet, all of that didn’t matter. And it didn’t matter to Jon either, it seemed. When Sansa wakes the next morning, once more with Jon’s arms around her, she is happy, and she doesn’t care. About Joffrey, about what's moral. Just that Jon’s arms are around her.


End file.
